


I Can't Make You Love Me

by katybaggins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crushes crush you, F/M, Gen, POV Molly Hooper, Pre-Reichenbach, Primarily Season 1 & 2, Unhappy Molly, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katybaggins/pseuds/katybaggins
Summary: Molly Hooper knows far too well that unrequited love hurts more than anything.





	1. Black, Two Sugars

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any Sherlock/Molly for a super long time (or any fanfiction really), but some of my own life mirrored Molly's and so I wrote this to help her deal with her emotions and my own. Also, I like titling stories after songs, so yes, this is referring to Bonnie Raitt's I Can't Make You Love Me. I think it is quite possibly the best unrequited love song I've heard.

Despite the fact that Molly’s father died when she was young, she thinks about him often. She remembers all the times that they played games, talked and even did little experiments together. But what always stands out in her mind are those days when he would take her out, just the two of them, on a picnic and he’d talk to her. Then she’d thought she simply was spending time with her father.

Now she knows he was teaching her about life. There are three of his phrases that stick in her mind, long after he was gone.

 _There’s a difference, Molly_ , he’d said over and over, _between seeing and knowing, listening and hearing, and wanting and needing._

She learns the first two rather quickly.

The last eludes her, no matter what she does. It isn’t that she doesn't try, because she does. But a difference between needing and wanting? Don't the two of them go together?

It isn’t until one fateful day when a man comes into her morgue that she learns all too well that there is. 

* * *

By itself a man coming into her morgue isn’t that out of the ordinary. _Lots_ of men come into her morgue, actually. She’s practically surrounded by them and she could certainly have her pick.

The only problem is that they’re all dead.

That Thursday the man who comes into her morgue is not. He strides in confidently with a black coat billowing around him - a coat that he wears almost like a suit of armor.

He isn’t polite to her. Actually, he is outright rude to her, without any pretense of politeness.  He orders her about, and tells her what to do as if it is _his_ morgue and not hers.

And she lets him. Because from the first sentence out of his mouth, from the first time she sees his face, she could barely string coherent words together. She’s never seen a more brilliant, beautiful man in her life. His intelligence is so strong, so fierce that it practically burned. As she quickly learns, he could - and did - use it to scald other people.

And she is completely captivated by him.

* * *

From that day on, she does everything she can to get him to notice her, to _want_ her. She smiles, she styles her hair, she compliments him.

But he never notices any of it. He focuses on the work and that is all.

She learns quickly that the work - no, it should be The Work, really - is everything to him. He lives for his Work - the opportunity to use his intelligence to fix problems, to solve crimes. He loves a good corpse and an interesting death even more than she does, and _she’s_ the one who works in the morgue.

While she revels in the fact that one man isn’t disgusted by her job, it is a tad bit insulting to her pride that he finds the dead far more intriguing than her. She has to wonder if maybe he isn’t attracted to women at all. Or maybe he simply isn’t interested in any sort of romantic relationship?

She doesn’t know and when she doesn’t know something, she tends to ask her friends for assistance. In this instance, she makes the mistake of telling Meena about her attraction to Sherlock Holmes (that is his name - Sherlock. She’s never met anyone with such an enigmatic name, or one that suits the person so perfectly). Meena promptly tells her that she needed to stop waiting for him to ask her out and do it herself.

Molly decides to take Meena’s advice. After weeks of practicing in front of her mirror, she carefully does her hair and she even puts on lipstick despite the fact that she hates it. She would ask him out on a date.

_Once you’re finished I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee._

_Black, two sugars. I’ll be upstairs._

She has no idea how that happened. Somehow he’s misinterpreted what she’d said, but how could he, when he's so clever that he could see through everyone and everything in seconds? He _must_ have understood and she is….well, it has to be her. She must have said it wrong or done something wrong. It's her fault. It has to be.  

She should have known better.

She should have known that someone like him could never care about her. She's an idiot to even entertain the possibility that he would.

Once she arrives home she locks herself in the bathroom, sits on the tiled floor and sobs.

It's the first time she’d cried over Sherlock Holmes.

It isn't the last.


	2. Such Horrible Things

Molly doesn't try to ask Sherlock out again, not when the first time was such a colossal failure. She also doesn’t try as hard as she did before with him and instead focuses on her work. Maybe if she does that, he would somehow leave her mind.

He doesn’t. If anything, he becomes even more entrenched in her heart and it seems like there is nothing she could do to prevent it. She loves him, she is sure of it now. She doesn't completely understand _why_ she does, since God knows he could be so cold and rude so much of the time. Yet he isn't always like that. Sometimes she sees a brief hurt look in his eyes when someone says something particularly cruel, and she can't help but feel that there is so much more to him than the front he shows the world. She wants, more than anything else, to know what is in that great mind of his, just for a moment. She wants him to let her in, and help him not feel so lonely. Since she knows no one would understand that desire, because many call him a psychopath or sociopath, she tries her best not to let anyone know how deeply she cares for him.

But it isn't until months later (after a disastrous attempt to date what turned out to be a psychotic murderer) that she attempts to do something to show her feelings again. In early December, John invites her to a Christmas party hosted by him and Sherlock.

Of course she understands perfectly well that it is really John inviting her and not Sherlock, since he is not at all the sort to throw any sort of party, but she says yes anyway. She doesn't have any family to visit and the alternative is staying at home with her cat.

Since it is a Christmas party, she considers it only appropriate to bring gifts for everyone. It isn't too difficult for her, not until she has to find something for Sherlock. She wanders from store to store, but she can't find anything that really seems to suit him or that she wants to give him.

Probably because what she desires to give him the most he doesn't seem to want at all.

But while she walks aimlessly through what feels like every store in London, she does allow herself to buy a black dress.

She tells herself it isn't for him.

She tells herself that it isn't so he can see what she looks like all dressed up. 

She tells herself it's because she hasn’t bought herself new clothes in a while, and it's Christmas. Surely she could allow herself this one indulgence.

Of course she is lying to herself, but sometimes that’s what she has to do.

When she finally arrives home, she decides to make up a list of body parts she could give him and experiments that they could do together. It is hardly personal - and hardly romantic - but she knows how much he relies on boredom busters to keep himself calm. Her morgue and lab are two such places.

She sticks the list in a box and wraps it up neatly. She debates for a while about what to write, but she finally decides to write what she feels.

A huge mistake.

* * *

In the hours before the party, of course, she has no idea what is about to happen. Whenever she thinks back to her moments of preparing and primping - wearing her hair down and styling it just so, putting on lipstick and that black dress - she realizes anew how foolish she’d been.

Had she really thought, even for a second, that if she wears the right dress he’d suddenly want to date her? Truly?

Is she really that stupid? Or maybe she is just one of those people who insists on making the same mistake twice. But she'd just....she'd just wanted him to notice her as _Molly_ , and not as the person who always gave him access to the morgue.

Oh, he notices her all right. Just not the way she’d envisioned. Even all these hours later, she can still hear his derisive voice in her head.

_I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him...In fact, you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift. Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. It’s for someone special, then. The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts …_

In that moment, she’d wanted to die. She’d literally wanted to slip through the floor and vanish because she never wanted to see any of Sherlock's friends ever again. She isn't even sure she wants to see them _now._ She’d never been so humiliated in her life and she wonders - not the first time - what is so wrong with her that she fell in love with a man like him.

_You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always._

She can't understand how she’d had the ability to say that in her mortification. She doesn't know how she’d had the courage or presence of mind to tell him that what he just said to her was _not_ okay. To her continued surprise, he’d responded.

_I am sorry. Forgive me…._

He’d apologized and asked for her forgiveness and then, of all things, kissed her lightly on the cheek. She didn’t know what to think, and she still doesn't, and so she’d excused herself as soon as she could. Of course everyone understood and sent sympathetic smiles her way. Somehow their pity was even harder to bear.

Once she arrives home after the Disastrous Party (it is probably one of the worst experiences of her life and she always marks those with capital letters), she locks herself in her bathroom and cries out all her frustration and angst about Sherlock. Then she takes a long shower in an attempt to wash all her humiliation and hurt. She stands underneath the water until it runs cold before toweling off and slipping into her most comfortable pajamas. She takes a long look at the crumpled black dress on the bathroom floor and promptly waddles it into a ball before throwing it in the back of her closet under a pile of junk.

She certainly never wants to see it again. 


	3. I Don't Count

After that awful and humiliating Christmas party, Molly doesn't want to see Sherlock again. 

No, that isn't true - it's more like a lie she tells herself to possible guard herself from further pain. She  _does_ want to see him, because somehow everything is....everything is more bright, more interesting when he's around.

Except when it's not. So maybe she doesn't want to see him. But no, she _does_ want to see him. 

She doesn't know what she wants. 

Yet when she actually has an afternoon off to think about it, and as she sits with a cup of tea with Toby purring next to her, she realizes that she wants two things:

She either wants Sherlock to at least see her as a person of value or she wants to get rid of her feelings for him for good. 

She has no idea how she will accomplish either, but maybe if she doesn't see Sherlock for a while her feelings for him will go away. Maybe she'll forget why she was attracted to him in the first place and she'll be able to move on. 

* * *

She isn't.

Over the next few months, she actually _doesn'_ t see Sherlock too often, and in the times in between she always hopes that maybe she won't care for him like she does. Maybe a day will come when his very presence won't affect her so deeply. She's wrong, of course, because even if weeks have passed the very sight of his face brings back all her feelings for him.  He's just so...unique, so special and she knows she'd never meet another man like him as long as she lives. Her friends try to set her up on occasion with other men, but she always looks for Sherlock in them. And they always fail. She is about ready to give up, but Meena insists on one last date before she will let Molly take at least a break and stop nagging at her to date more. To Molly, it seems worth the effort to get Meena off her back so she agrees to a lunch date with a man named Steve. 

In all honesty, she truly has no desire to have a Lunch Date with Steve, but she forces herself to do it anyway and she's just about to leave for it when Sherlock barges in and spins her around, insisting that he help him with one of his cases. She doesn't want to, because God know Meena would not let her off the hook for canceling the lunch date for Sherlock of all people, but something in Sherlock's eyes, despite his usual rude comments, stops her from saying no. She isn't entirely sure, but something about him seems...much more tense than he usually is on a case.

As they analyze the chemical traces on a shoeprint, her suspicions are heightened even further as he mutters something about "I owe you" and whenever he thinks John isn't looking, his eyes will rest on him with the saddest expression she's only ever seen on one person in her entire life. Her heart hurts for him, and even though she knows it will be difficult and she knows he'll shut her down, like he always does, she still musters up all her courage to confront him about it.

In her own bumbling way, she manages to babble on about her father and how he looked sad when he was dying. While she talks, she can tell that she is completely annoying Sherlock.

She doesn't care. She continues on, saying words that she'd never thought she'd be able to in front of him. As she does, she finally captures his attention when she tells him he looks sad when he thinks John can't see him.

She won't ever forget the look on his face - like she's seen right through him and he can't believe it. For a moment, she thinks maybe that this is what it is like when he deduces another person. He can expose so much about a person through one glance and she's witnessed it. But for the first time, she wonders if he can finally understand what it is like on the other side. 

 _But_ you _can see me._

Her eyes burn as he says those words, because yes, of course she can see him. She loves him, and so naturally she is more in tune to what he might be feeling than others. But she tries not to delude herself. She knows he doesn't care for her the way she does for him, and she has never - despite all her time and effort - made her way into his inner circle. There's only three people there, and she is not one of them. The fact that she can see his sadness now does not change the fundamental truth.

_I don't count._

For a second, she believes she sees a hint of surprise at her words, but it quickly vanishes. She tries not to think about it and instead offers her help. She says it far too awkwardly, and it almost sounds like some sort of sexual proposition which is not what she intended at all. Even though she thinks he probably doesn't know what she means, she cringes inside. She doesn't understand why her mouth can't actually listen to her mind for once instead of making her sound stupid.

But even if she said it perfectly, it still probably wouldn't change Sherlock's reaction of wondering what he could possibly need from her.

Nothing. She already knows he doesn't need anything from her and he doesn't want her. But she won't be able to live with herself if she doesn't try to help him now. 

And sometimes all she can do is try.  

* * *

After John and Sherlock leave and Molly is alone once more, she tells herself that she won't be surprised if Sherlock never says anything about their conversation today ever again. She also won't be surprised if he does not ask for anything. After all, just as she knows that she can't make Sherlock love her the way she wants, she also knows she can't make him want her help even if he needs it. And you can't help someone who won't let you.

Besides, he hasn't wanted anything from her before, so why would it change now?

By the time she leaves to go home after an especially long day, she's almost succeeded in forcing her mind on something besides Sherlock and she is so ready to curl up in her pajamas with her cat. She is certain that she won't hear anything from him.

So she is beyond shocked when she hears his voice come in the darkness, like something from a dream, saying words she'd never in a thousand years imagine would ever come from him. 

_You're wrong, you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay._

She doesn't understand what's happening, not really, and she can't even begin to process the fact that she somehow has counted all this time, but she can tell enough from the vulnerable expression in his eyes that now is not the time to play twenty questions. 

_Tell me what's wrong._

_Molly, I think I'm going to die._

She knows he's not joking. He'd never joke about something like that, and although her heart feels sick and heavy with the thought of losing him, she doesn't ask why he thinks he'll die because he wouldn't say it to her if he didn't truly believe it. She doesn't make any of the morbid nonsense comebacks that would cheer someone up in any other circumstance. Instead, she simply asks him what he needs. He draws closer and closer to her, his expression intense, before he answers with one word. 

_You._

She can only blink at him, because she still doesn't fully comprehend what exactly is going on here, and what has left Sherlock thinking he will die, but what she does understand now is her father's distinction between wanting and needing:

Because Sherlock is not here in front of her because he wants her, at least not in the way she'd like him to. But he _does_ need her. 

And that, for now, will be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of it. If you read this story and thought, boy, Katy, this is super depressing...well, it's kind of supposed to be. Unrequited feelings for someone else hurt like nothing else especially when you can't get rid of them. So if you felt sad when you read it, I've succeeded in conveying the emotions that I thought Molly might feel.


End file.
